


Blood, Hatred, and Rage

by plasticpumpkins



Category: Chronicle (2012)
Genre: Bullying, Gen, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Marijuana, Minor Violence, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 06:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12007116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plasticpumpkins/pseuds/plasticpumpkins
Summary: Andrew is left alone at another party, someone wants to chew him up and spit him out, and Matt is pissed.or''imagine matt like actually fighting and caring for andrew and beating the hell out of his bullies wouldn't that be neat.'' - jacob 2k17





	Blood, Hatred, and Rage

**Author's Note:**

> I got five dollars to write Matt punching Andrew's bullies enjoy 
> 
> I hate my life and I can't sleep but GO MATT!! WHOOOOO!!! HOT BOY!!1

Andrew had never liked parties. They were always filled with rowdy, touchy people who bumped shoulders with him and smelled strongly of alcohol. He hated being in houses that he would never be caught dead in during the day, and he hated being  _ alone _ in those houses even more. Sure, he didn’t want to be home either. That was a whole other predicament; but at least at home, there was a locked door between him and his stressors. Here, in the darkened living room of David Matthew’s house, he was exposed and vulnerable to everyone’s critical eyes. He felt out of place. Lonely in a crowded place. 

Matt had promised him that they’d only be there for ten minutes. He had non-discreetly mentioned that he was out of weed, and Andrew had no time to protest before they were pulling into a gravel driveway and his cousin was beckoning him out of the car. The loud, booming music could be heard from a mile away, Andrew thought. It was some intense, bass-boosted dance music that vibrated in his chest and thrummed in his feet. He didn’t feel like dancing. He never did. So, it was nothing but agitating and painfully loud. He wished Matt would have left him stay in the car, but _ no, ‘Drew, no.  _

And so, there Andrew was, standing dejectedly in some stranger’s living room while Matt mingled upstairs with his drug dealer. No one ever met his eyes, and if even if they tried to, it would be pretty hard with him always looking at the floor. He was nervous. Uncomfortably nervous, if you will. People shoved past him, but he remained silent, unmoving. Andrew felt like a child lost in the mall without his mother, on the verge of panic and afraid to ask for help. So, he didn’t. He backed himself up into a corner and cowered the best he could, curling his shoulders in to diminish his already small height. 

It didn’t work. A moment later, the worst possible thing that could’ve happened occurred. It was as if the universe was intentionally punishing him - for what, he didn’t know. He thought he’d been punished enough, quite frankly. Andrew thought he must have some magnet on him that attracted everyone he despised, because without warning, his worst bully was approaching him. And no, it wasn’t to ask him to dance or to offer him some ale - so don’t ask. “What’s up, Detmer? Lost without your boyfriend?’’ the boy sneered, obviously referring to his fucking cousin, of _ all _ people. _ Gross _ . 

Andrew really, really, really hated his life. He could smell the liquor on the guy’s breath, and he  _ really  _ didn’t appreciate it. He couldn’t get any smaller and the ground refused to open and swallow him, so he stood, unfortunately solid, in front of his bully. He said nothing; he just pressed his back harder into the wall, hoping he’d somehow fall through it and end up on the other side safely. Andrew’s lack of response didn’t stop the boy from lunging forward and grabbing his shirt. He twisted it in his fist and began to drag him across the wooden floor through the crowd of people. Nobody batted an eyelash. 

Something cruel and sad bloomed in Andrew’s stomach. It took less than a minute for the guy to have him down the front steps and onto the lawn. And that’s when the hits came, stowed away in private as if they hadn’t been occurring in full daylight in the school hallways. Maybe, Andrew thought, he just wanted more room to draw his fist back. ‘’I’m so fucking sick of seeing your face around,’’ he heard. 

A blunt fist collided with his shoulder, and he stumbled backwards onto the lawn, crawling backwards in a weak attempt to get away. He didn’t know where to run. He was in the middle of the suburbs on the west side of town, hell, he barely knew where he was. The boy towered over him, reaching for him in his drunken state, and held him up in mid-air with his feet still planted on the ground as if Andrew weighed nothing at all. “It’s just so fucking infuriating, I don’t know why, y-you fucking faggots have this thing about you that makes me want to beat your face in until you can’t see straight.”

And then his back was colliding with the ground with one swift motion, knocking the air out of him. Andrew took a panicked breath in, desperately trying to pull air into his lungs and failing. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, dripping down his freckled cheeks involuntarily. He blinked them away quickly, finally deciding that he’d rather run blindly through this empty neighborhood than stay here and be someone’s chew toy. If he could just - just get up. Breathe again. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. 

He was still expecting the next blow, even as his nails dug their way into the dirt in agony, but it never came. All he heard was a sudden yelp and then all the air was rushing back into his contracting lungs. It burned like a motherfucker. He forced his eyes open, and he saw the unexpected: his cousin, with his open flannel and baggy jeans, decking the shit out of his bully. Then he was dropping to his knees, straddling the guy, and punching him in the jaw with a violent, relentless, closed fist. Again and again.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” Matt snarled, the guy fighting against the punches with uncalculated blocks of his forearm. It didn’t do much. Andrew had no idea Matt could even fight, but he was bashing in the boy’s face with his knuckles and growling, “If you touch him one more fucking time -  _ listen to me _ \- I’ll curbstomp your fucking head in, you hear me? You tell your idiot friends, too, I’ll break your goddamn spine. I’ll make you wish you were dead a hundred times over. Fuck  _ you _ .’’ 

Matt moved off, panting, his shoulders slouched and his chest heaving. The bully scrambled off the ground, obviously drunk and bleeding, and ran off without a word. Andrew couldn’t even process what had happened. It felt like some strange fever dream. But no, Matt was moving over to him, his demeanor shifting and his face softening. "Are you okay, ‘Drew?" he murmured, squatting down and reaching out with a hand that still shook with anger and adrenaline. "Uh, dude, I’m so sorry for leaving you."

Andrew’s eyes were wide, unbelieving as he stared forward. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" Matt asked. 

"That."

"Dude, he was beating the shit out of you, what was I supposed to do?" Matt questioned. 

"I-I don’t know,’’ Andrew said, unsure of how to feel. ‘’You didn’t have to do that, though."

A moment passed. Andrew ached all over and the sky looked as if it were going to cough up some rain. He could hear a subtle _ thumpthumpthump  _ beside him, that of which he quickly identified as Matt’s racing heart. He blamed it on the music rattling through the yard. "I had to… I didn’t know it was that bad… I didn’t know that they put their hands on you, dude," Matt said quietly, frowning. 

"But you knew they bullied me?" Andrew asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

Something pitiful flashed on the other boy’s face, "It’s highschool, man, everyone gets bullied; but not everyone gets fucking pummeled. But I’ll tell you what, if he - or anyone - ever touches you again, call me, okay? I don’t care if I’m in calculus, call me. Nobody needs to hurt you like that.  _ Especially  _ not my baby cousin, no way." 

Andrew’s chest burned at the sentiment, and in that moment, he almost told Matt the truth about his own father. About the bruises on his back. About how the bullying at school was never as bad as the kind at home. But he couldn’t do it. The words were caught in his throat. He reached up and wiped the tears from his eyes quickly, trying to pretend they weren’t there to begin with. "Thanks, Matt."

"Yeah, kid, no problem. Now, let’s get the fuck outta here and go smoke some good shit, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever."


End file.
